


House Calls: a Sick!Fic

by cmonlauraweremarriednow



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Fluff, Sickfic, sniffly puppy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-03-06 05:19:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13404303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmonlauraweremarriednow/pseuds/cmonlauraweremarriednow
Summary: Our favorite puppy of an FBI agent isn’t feeling very well. Luckily, his doctor makes house calls.





	House Calls: a Sick!Fic

**Author's Note:**

> Post-season 10, slight spoilers for Cold Cases audiobook  
> Warning: This is a disgustingly sweet embarrassing piece of OOC cuddlefluff. You’d be better off swimming in a vat of cotton candy, honestly

“Scullaayyyyy!”

She is going to kill them. She is going to drag them out of their underground Arlington National Cemetery bunker and make them wish they had stayed dead.

Scully doesn’t know how or when they managed to record that and she isn’t sure she wants to know. What she does know is that those geeky basement dwellers will rue the day they ever decided it was a good idea to set foot in that fucking red office supply store named for a pointy paper fastener.

Oh yes, Frohike, Byers, and Langly thought their most recent birthday gift to Mulder was just  _so_  hilarious: a bright red paperweight of a button, which instead of declaring something to be “easy” now shouted her name in Mulder’s voice. That couldn’t possibly be annoying at all. The four of them giggled like schoolgirls for hours, pressing that damn thing over and over again. He’s lucky it hasn’t “accidentally” fallen off his desk and been “accidentally” crushed by a hammer.

Scully moans in frustration as her name echoes down the hallway again. For someone who had suffered countless head wounds, been buried alive in psychotropic mushroom goo, abducted by aliens, and literally come back from the dead, he was the biggest baby when it came to having a cold. All she wanted was just five blissful minutes to herself. Was that really so much to ask?

“I’m coming!”

Any annoyance she has dissipates when she opens the door and finds Mulder propped up on his pillows in his tattered grey “I was probed in Roswell” t-shirt, looking utterly pathetic with his red nose and glassy eyes ringed with exhaustion. His forlorn puppy dog expression somehow made him even more adorable. She approaches the bed and feels his forehead; he closes his eyes and arches into her cool hand, swallowing painfully.

“What is it, Mulder?”

Mulder scrawls something on a whiteboard and thrusts it towards her.

_Thirsty_

Scully smiles down at him, her brow cocked in amused concern.

“Mulder, would you like some juice?”

He sticks his bottom lip out and nods pathetically in response, hair flopping over his forehead. She reaches out to brush the unruly lock back.

“I’ll be right back.”

Scully returns with a glass of orange juice in one hand and the other tucked behind her back. With an exaggerated flourish, she produces a bright green crazy straw shaped like an alien head.  His eyes light up and he grins up at her dazedly, the hoarse laugh that bubbles up quickly replaced with a sore throat wince.

_You’re too good to me_

She extends the glass and gently guides the straw past his lips. He drains half the glass before leaning back against the pillows.

“Thanks,” he rasps weakly with a small tilt of his lips. He really wants to make a joke about sucking aliens, but can’t manage to form his feverish thoughts into anything coherent.

“Hey now, none of that,” the doctor in her admonishes, laying a finger to his lips and using her other hand to ease him gently down to the bed. “You need sleep.” Scully plants a soft kiss to his forehead with a brush of her thumb against his cheek. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

She’s closed the bedroom door quietly behind her and is halfway down the hall to the living room when it sounds again.

“Scullaayyyyy!”

A huffing laugh bursts from her lips with a fond shake of her head as she turns back towards the bedroom. She opens the door to find a sniffling Mulder propped up on an elbow with an expression belonging in a late night ASPCA commercial. She can almost hear the plaintive warbling of Sarah McLachlan.

_Out of tissues_

He looks at her with a helpless expectant expression, sniffing again for good measure.

“Really, Mulder?”

Sniff sniff.

She returns shortly with a fresh box from the bathroom closet. He sniffs gratefully. Scully holds the tissue to his nose while he blows, her long buried maternal instincts surfacing.

“All better?”

Mulder nods and burrows back under his covers with a shiver. Another hair floof, forehead kiss, and three steps towards the door later…

“Scullaayyyyy!”

“What now, Mulder?” she sighs, turning around and reapproaching the bed, faint cracks appearing in her patient veneer. “What else could you possibly need?”

_I’m lonely_

“Mulder…” Scully murmurs in a voice of sympathetic pity. “You really need to get some rest.”

He frantically grabs at her hand as she turns towards the door again, swiping over the board with his arm to erase and write another message.

_Please don’t leave me_

The unwritten “again” hangs heavy in the air between them. He looks up at her with pleading fever-glazed eyes, begging her not to go. He knows she’s here. He knows she’s not going anywhere. He knows this. But there’s a tiny piece of him – buried deep under repeated apologies and kisses and late-night whispers making up for lost time – that is still afraid that when she walks out the door, she won’t come back.

Her expression softens into furrowed brows and pained eyes. How could she leave him when he needs her? “Do you want me to stay until you fall asleep?”

Nod nod sniff.

Scully lifts the corner of the comforter and eases into the bed next to him, shifting him to lean against her, with his head propped on her chest. She nuzzles her cheek into the soft crown of his head and tightens her arms around him, her hand rubbing circles on his back. His contented sigh tells her that she’s right where she needs to be. The mattress shifts as Mulder turns slightly to thrust the whiteboard at her again.  

_Sing for me_

“I don’t sing, Mulder. You know this.”

_Yes you do – the one about the frog_

Cue the Dana Scully Eye Roll TM. It’s impossible to deny him when he’s all sick and sad and pathetic. He knows this. Sniffly bastard.  

“Jeremiah was a bullfrog, was a good friend of mine…”

Mulder smiles sleepily into her chest, basking in the familiar comfort of her voice, his hand swiping over his whiteboard drunkenly as he struggles to keep his eyes open. Scully strokes the damp hair from his forehead again, repeatedly running her fingers over his scalp until his breathing slows and his eyes close, just like she did all those years ago in a dark Floridian forest.  

_I love you_

**Author's Note:**

> Comments make me the happiest clam in all the sea  
> You can also follow me on Tumblr [@realmofextremepossibility!](http://realmofextremepossibility.tumblr.com)


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